


The Life Of Lil Stiles

by staringatademigod



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Babysitter Peter, Babysitter Peter Hale, Child Stiles, Kid Fic, Kid Stiles Stilinski, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatademigod/pseuds/staringatademigod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of young Stiles' life before high school</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles tugs at the covers, pulling them off of his tiny body before hopping down from his tall bed which is his height when he’s standing on the floor. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he shuffles towards the door; one of his stuffed monkey’s arms secured tightly in his other hand. The door creaks open, revealing his half dressed dad, who’s still shrugging on his Sheriff's uniform.

“Stiles, come on buddy, we gotta hurry. I’m late for work.” His dad sighs, pulling off the small Batman pajama shirt from his body and tossing it on the bed. “Okay, what do you want to wear today? ‘Big guy’ shirt?” he suggests, looking in the closet.

Shrugging, Stiles starts to yank his pajama bottoms down. “Daddy, I don’t wanna go to the station with you again!” The five year old whines, stepping closer to his dad. “And I’m hungry! What ‘bout breakfast?”

Ignoring his son, the Sheriff hands the little boy a black and blue striped, quarter sleeve shirt. He struggles to get his head through the hole and a muffled cry comes from him. His dad pulls the shirt down with ease. “Would you rather have me call for a babysitter?” he asks, running his hand through his son’s messy hair. Stiles nods. “Alright, you finish getting yourself dressed and I’ll find a babysitter.”

The Sheriff, John, stands up and walks out of the room in a rush, buttoning up his uniform. Picking up the phone hanging on the wall, he sighs, scanning the paper of names that are taped on the wall. He dials one of the numbers and waits patiently as the phone beeps on the other end. After a few more beeps, the other end picks up. “Hey, it’s John Stilinski...Yes, the Sheriff...No, nothing’s wrong. I wanted to ask if you could send someone to come watch my son for today...Yes, but everyone calls him Stiles...Okay, okay...15 minutes or so? Yes, that’s fine...Thank you, have a good day too, ma’am.” He hangs up the phone with a sigh.

John re-enters his son’s room to find nothing but pajamas sprawled across the floor. Little feet pad against the carpet behind him. “Is it a boy or a girl?” Stiles asks, sucking on his thumb with his brown monkey slung over his shoulder. His dad shrugs, picking up the puny child and heading downstairs. “I hope they can make pancakes…” he pouts.

Placing his son down, he continues to get ready for work. Stiles wanders into the living room, turning on the TV. He sits down with his stuffed animal on his lap as images of Codename Kids Next Door appear on the screen. That captures his attention for just a few minutes until the doorbell rings.

Excitedly, Stiles runs to the door, reaching up to turn the knob. He swings the door open only to find a tall man with electric blue eyes and dusty brown hair standing in front of him. “Hi, I’m Stiles! Are you my new babysitter?” John runs downstairs as Stiles continues to ask questions. “What’s your name? Do you like toys? How old are you?-”

“Stiles, calm down buddy.” John mumbles, patting his head. “You’re...Peter?” he asks, raising one of his eyebrows.

The man nods, taking a hand out from his dark green jacket. ‘’That’s me…So….When do you get home from work?”

“Around 7:30-8”

Peter nods, “Okay. Food wise; anything I should know? Allergies?” he raises his hand, waving it around slightly. “Nap time? Anything like that?”

Stiles pops up from behind his dad, “Nope! I don’t have allergies; my dad does though! He can’t eat peanut butter.” He beams, tilting his head up to look up at the babysitter with his big brown orbs.

Chuckling, Peter turns his attention back to John, who sighs deeply. Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb, he grabs his big black jacket. “His nap time is at 2:30 or 3 and he’ll tell you what he eats.” He scribbles down a number on the notepad on the desk. “Here’s my number, just in case.” He turns to the two foot kid, kneeling down to his level. “Be good for Peter, okay? I love you.” He kisses the top of Stiles head and leaves in a hurry.

Peter shuts the door, looking down at the boy, “You eat yet?” Stiles shakes his head. “Come on then, what do you want? Pancakes?” Stiles’ face lights up.

\------------

The two boys sit at the table, staring at each other. Peter squints his eyes as Stiles shovels a piece of pancake in his mouth. “I have a question.” The young boy peers up, syrup running down his chin. “You’re five, right?” Stiles nods his head proudly. “Why aren’t you in school then?” Peter questions, raising an eyebrow and taking a bite of his pancakes.

“School doesn’t start for another tree weeks, swilly!”

Peter mentally slaps himself, “Oh…” he mumbles, “Are you excited for school?” Sadly, Stiles shakes his head; his chubby hands wrapping around the glass of milk. “Why not? School’s fun, though I’m almost done with it…My nephew likes it…” he mutters quietly.

Stiles sets his glass on the table, wiping off his milk mustache with his sleeve. He sighs, looking down at his hands on his lap. “I don’t have any friends…” he mumbles in a small voice, “Nobody likes me. Except for my dad…”

Peter’s heart literally drops to his stomach. “Stiles, monkey, why would you say something like that?” He stands up from his chair and walks around the table, squatting down. “You know that’s not true, right?” Stiles shrugs. “Oh, I bet you have one friend.” he smiles, hopefully.

“Well...me and Scott talk…”

Putting his hands on Stiles waist, Peter lifts him onto his hip. “Maybe you can ask Scott to come play with you and I one day,” he suggests, picking up the plates with his free hand and putting them in the sink. “We can go get ice cream, play on the playground; whatever you wanna do, monkey.” He walks into the living room.

“That would be awesome!”

\----------------

John unlocks the front door, walking into his house and dropping his keys in the small bowl. He hears his son’s laughter which makes him crack a slight smile. As he enters the living room, he sees the brown fluff of hair sticking out everywhere. Stiles giggles while the tall seventeen year old boy continues to blow raspberry kisses on the tiny boy.

The Sheriff clears his throat, making Peter stop and look up. He grins, glancing back at Stiles. “It’s eight o’clock already?! Where did the day go?!” he says, surprised, picking up the little boy and falling backwards with him.

“Peter stop! Let me go! I need to ask my dad something!” he screams while laughing against his chest.

Peter smirks, opening one of his eyes. “Monkey, I can’t, my arms gave out and I can’t move them,” he simply states, trying to hide the smirk starting to form on his face.

“No they didn’t!” Stiles argues.

“Yes they did. Same thing happened yesterday with Derek.”

John stifles a laugh as Stiles begins to wiggle out of the boys arms. After a few minutes, he finally succeeds and stomps over to John. “Daddy, I need to ask you something very important.” he squeaks, completely serious. He’s never completely serious. John nods, bending down and looking at Peter, who was still on the floor but is now sitting up. “Can Peter be my new babysitter?”

The Sheriff’s eyes widen slightly, “Well, um, did you ask Peter if he wants to be your babysitter?” Stiles nods. “And what did he say?”

“To ask you first.” he replies.

John peers back at the teenager. “Well, if Peter’s up for it, I can sure use the help,” he grins. 

Stiles smiles wide, turning to Peter. “YAY! PETER’S MY BABYSITTER!” he screams, attacking him in a bear hug; causing the teenager to fall backwards with the kid on his chest. “Thank you! Thank you!”


	2. Meet Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's shocked when Stiles brings a friend home

Peter didn’t know what to do when Stiles was at school. For the last three weeks he had been with the little rascal and he kept the werewolf on his toes. Today was different though. John had to work the late shift, which meant Peter was on late shift as well. 

He hears the bus stop and pauses putting the dishes away. Finally his monkey was home. Stiles little hand tugs the door open, screaming, “Honey, I’m home!” Peter can’t help but chuckle as he dries his hands on his pants.

“Hey monkey! How was school-” He immediately stops when he sees another kid standing next to Stiles. “Who’s this?” he asks, putting a hand on his hip. Peter is all for Stiles having friends over, really, but the Sheriff hadn’t told him anything about this. If he had known, he would’ve definitely called for backup.

Stiles steps towards Peter. “This is my best friend, Scott! He’s sleeping over with us tonight.“ he beams, pointing to the tan boy with a mop of black hair. He motions for the tall teenager to come closer and cups his hands around his babysitter’s ears, “He’s very quiet.” Peter nods.

“Hi,” he says quietly, glancing up for a second before returning his gaze to the floor.

Peter smiles. “Hey Scotty, I’m Peter.” He waves his hand a little and then focuses his attention back on Stiles, who looks like he’s done something wrong. “Monkey...” he warns, giving the small one a stern face, “Does your dad know about this?” Stiles shrugs. Peter sighs, “Scott, what about you?”

Scott nods. “My mom knows. Stiles was s’pose to tell his dad…” he murmurs.

With a silent sigh Peter tugs his phone from his pants pocket. “Why don’t you two go watch some TV?” Stiles bolts in the other room and Scott follows after him slowly. Peter dials John’s number, putting the phone up to his ear. “Hey Mr. Stilinski...Yeah, he’s home but…No, he just brought a friend...Scott….Oh good you knew…No, it’s okay; I understand…Can I call for some help?...My nephew... He’s sixteen, almost seventeen…Thanks!”

\---------------

There’s a knock on the door and both boys look up from the TV screen. Peter gets up, as well as the boys, and goes to open the front door. “Who is it? Did you order pizza? Scott, we’re getting pizza!” Stiles screams.

“No monkey! Not right now,” Peter chuckles, “Derek, come in.”

Derek walks in and Stiles cocks his head to the side. “Hey guys-”

Stiles interrupts him with a high pitched scream that rings through both of the werewolves ears. As Peter is about to scold him, Stiles races towards his babysitter, clinging to his leg for dear life. “I’m sorry I’m bad Peter; please don’t leave me! I don’t wanna-a different b-babysitter! I promise I’ll be a good boy!” he sobs.

With a slight laugh, the teenager picks up the tiny crying boy and places him on his hip. He wipes the falling tears off the chubby cheeks, kissing the top of his head. “Chill out my little monkey, Derek’s here to help me with you and Scotty. I’d never leave you; I could never leave you! Who else would be my monkey?”

Stiles rubs his eyes, about to say something when Scott’s voice is heard. “Can you please pick me up too?” he asks Derek, “I feel awkward down here alone.”

Derek snorts but happily picks him up, staring at him for a minute. Scott just stares back. “You’re...really quiet, aren’t you, little man?” Derek questions, raising an eyebrow. Scott nods. “I have a feeling me and you are gonna get along.”

After a minute or two, Stiles peers down at his stomach. He pulls on Peter’s shirt sleeve, “I’m hungry!” he whines, his lower lip beginning to form into a pout. “Can we go to Johnny Rockets? Please?” His big brown eyes tearing up.

Peter sighs, already knowing that he’s not going to win this war. He glances at his nephew, who shrugs. Scott taps on Derek’s shoulder, making the werewolf pay attention to him, “Yes. We should go,” he simply states.

\------------------

“Monkey, slow down.” Peter snickers, munching on one of his last fries. Stiles stares at him for a brief moment before scarfing down the rest of his cheeseburger. This kid can eat like nobody’s business.

Swallowing Stiles squints at Derek, “We must get ice cream!” he yells with a ketchup covered smile.

Peter shakes his head, grabbing a napkin and leaning across the table to clean Stiles’ face, “No, not tonight, monkey.

Slamming his tiny fists on the table, Stiles stands up on the booster seat. “This is an outrage!” he shrieks, “We’re at Johnny Rockets; we must get ice cream! You’re savages! Think of poor Scott, he never gets ice cream! You’re gonna deprive him of the sweet treat?!” 

“Stiles, sit down! I said no!”

Derek scoots closer to his uncle, “How does a four year old know words like that?” Peter shrugs; honestly, he has no idea. Derek glances at Scott, ”And you’ve never had ice cream?” he asks, unbelievably.

Scott shakes his head, “My mom gives me shaved ice.”

The young werewolf stares at the four year old, then turns to his side, “We gotta get this kid ice cream.”

\---------------

Rubbing his eyes, Stiles pouts as his babysitter unbuttons his pants, pulling them down his chubby legs and replacing them with pajama pants. “Hey Peter…” he mumbles, yawning as his shirt is taken off his body. “Can I sleep with you? Like how-” he yawns again, “Scott’s sleeping with Derek…” 

Peter smiles, “Of course, monkey. Just let me change out of my pants.” He starts wiggling out of his jeans, so that he’s only in his boxers. “Get in bed, little dude. I’ll be right back, okay?” Stiles nods as his eyes begin to droop. The teenager can’t help but grin when he heads downstairs. He first makes sure the door is locked and then goes into the living room. Scott and Derek are fast asleep on the couch; Scott sprawled out across Derek’s chest.

He puts a blanket on the two of them and sighs, rubbing his eyes. Realizing the TV’s still playing, he switches it off. He begins to go back upstairs, scratching his leg as he does so. 

When he comes into Stiles bedroom, the little boy rolls over; eyes half closed and thumb hanging from his mouth. “I’m here monkey. Go to sleep,” he whispers, slipping in the bed next to Stiles. As soon as he’s in bed, Stiles curls into his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

Peter’s about to drift off to sleep when he hears the front door unlock. Instinctively, he pulls the little boy closer to his body and shuts his eyes. 

John smirks when he sees little Scott McCall huddled into Derek Hale’s chest like a cub. He takes his coat off and hangs it on the hook before trudging upstairs to his son’s room. Quietly, he creaks the door open enough to see the giant teenagers toes sticking out of Stiles’ mini blanket. 

Smirking, he shuts the hallway light off and goes to his room.


	3. Superheroes and Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out Peter's a superhero. Peter finds out who Jackson is.

It was safe to say that young Peter Hale wasn’t expecting a call so early in the morning. He picks up his ringing phone, looking at the number calling (he has no idea who it is) and the time above the flashing cell number. It’s 12:38. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, his thumb swipes across the screen and he puts it to his ear. “Hello?” he rumbles in his gruff morning voice.

“Hello.” a woman's voice says, ‘Is this Peter-” she pauses, “the babysitter?”

Sighing, he sits up, placing the phone in between his ear and shoulder as he grabs his jeans from off the floor. “Is this about Stiles?” he mumbles, putting one leg through each pant leg, then stands up. 

“Yes, this is about Stiles. His father put your phone number on the list to call when he’s at work.”

Peter wiggles his legs, yanking up his pants the rest of the way and closing his eyes. “Then yes, this is Peter...the babysitter…” he huffs, buttoning his jeans. “What did he do this time?” he asks, fumbling with his shirt. He makes his way downstairs, grabbing his car keys and coat as he listens to the woman explain the entire situation. 

\-------------

Once he arrives at the school, he sees the rambunkshus little boy standing next to a new friend that Peter hasn’t seen him talk to before. He parks his Ford on the opposite side of the road, staring at how the two boys interact. He notices that the ‘new friend’ is sitting down on the black stone steps with his face covered by his small hands, while Stiles rubs his back, telling him something. Peter suspects it’s important due to how much Stiles is waving his arms around.

Deciding he spent enough time in his car, he opens the door and steps out, quickly shutting it again. He looks both ways before racing across the street, only slowing down to pull his baggy pants up his butt. His work lanyard flying around as it hangs out of his back pocket. He can’t help but chuckle as he hears Stiles trying to cheer up his friend.

“They’re just jealous ‘cause...well...I tink you’re awesome! And...they...they’re poopheads!” Stiles exclaims in a serious, waving his arms for extra emphasis. He glances up and beams, pointing at his babysitter. “See, Peter’s here now! I’ll…I’ll ask him what he tinks!” he smiles, raising his head to get a good view of Peter.

Squatting down to the two boys, Peter rests his hand on Stiles shoulder before focusing on the other little guy. “Hey kid…” he whispers, placing a finger underneath his chin and lifts it up. The tears drip off his cheeks; a part of Peter’s heart breaks at the sight. “Whatever they said...Um…” Peter’s never been good with kids, only Stiles, so did he know how to handle this? Fuck no. “Stiles’ right. They’re just jealous of how awesome you are. Don’t listen to them.”

All of the sudden, the small boy with electric blue eyes and sandy blond hair jumps from the steps, attacking the teen in a tight hug. At first Peter isn’t sure how to respond. Not even Scott is comfortable with touching him; just...Stiles. Slowly, he wraps his long arms around the fragile frame, squeezing tightly before letting go.

With a sweet smile, Peter pats the little ones head, “I think recess is over, kiddo… I gotta take Stiles home now....” he mumbles. Nodding, the boy runs towards the herd of kids going in the school. 

“Bye Stiles! Love you!” his little voice shouts, waving.

“Bye Jacks! Love you tooooooo!” he says before turning towards the teen. Stiles stands with his hands behind his back, avoiding the stare his babysitter’s giving him; he turns around, trying to go back to school.

Peter rolls his eyes, grabbing the munchkin’s backpack. “Woah, woah, woah. Not so fast. You and I got some talking to do. Come on, monkey.” he scolds, picking up the kid and resting him on his hip.

His lanyard continues to swing back and forth as he walks to the car while Stiles tugs at Peter’s white hoodie strings. “So...what happened today so that I had to pick you up?” he questions, buckling the little man in the booster seat that the Sheriff dropped off. “You know...I had important things to do, monkey…” It’s true, he did have important things to do; it included sleeping.

He closes the door and climbs in the driver’s seat, putting the keys in the ignition. As the car starts, Stiles looks out the window. “I didn’t mean to get in trouble, Peter!” he shouts, waving a hand around, “Theo and his friends were picking on my friend, Jackson, and-and he said his mommy and daddy didn’t really love him ‘c-cause he’s adopted, right? So, I- I said they was wrong and Theo pushed me and s-said-” he sniffles, wiping a stray tear off his face, “my name was st-stupid and that’s why I didn’t have my mommy no more! B-but my mommy loved me very much and she was sick…”

Stopping the car, Peter clutches the steering wheel tightly; his claws poking holes in the leather, “Stiles, don’t listen to Theo or his friends, okay? They’re just meanies and...Just ignore them; you know what ignore means?” he asks, leaving his left hand on the steering wheel as he turns around.

Stiles nods, “Mhm, to not talk to them and act like they aren’t there!” he says proudly; Peter nods turning his attention back to the road. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yes monkey?” he mumbles, quickly peering at the backseat through the mirror.

The little boy picks up his stuffed monkey from his backpack, playing with it. “Why did your eyes change to yellow?” he asks simply. Peter studies himself in the mirror and blinks for a few times before his eyes are back to his normal blue. “Are you a superhero?”

Peter sighs in relief and nods, “Yes monkey, I am a superhero! So is Derek. But, you know what?” Stiles stops playing with his stuffed animal and looks up. “You can’t tell your dad about it. It’ll ruin my secret identity and I couldn’t babysit you anymore!” he says, trying to hold back a chuckle.

The kid’s eyes widen as he looks down, “I knew it…” he mutters under his breath as Peter snorts. “Okay! I won’t tell anyone; I promise!!”

“Good!” Peter grins, “Maybe I can show you my powers some day...That is, if you’re good…” he mumbles, pulling up to his driveway. “But that means not getting trouble at school, because I can’t always pick you up at the middle of the day.” he explains, parking the car.

“Okay, okay…” Stiles huffs.

\------------------------

Peter opens the door to find Scott and Stiles, “Back from school already?” he smiles, watching the bus zoom past the house. The two boys come inside and stare at him in awe, which makes Peter a bit uncomfortable. “What?” he asks, a little angrier than he should have.

“I told Scott that you’re a superhero.” Stiles simply states, pointing at Scott.

Oh my God. Peter squats down, “Monkey, what did I say about my superpower?” he questions, grabbing Stiles chubby cheeks with both of his hands.

He raises his pointer finger, “You said, ‘Don’t tell your dad’.And I didn’t. I told Scott and Jacks.” he says bluntly. ‘Well, he’s not wrong’ Peter thinks, shaking his head and rubbing his face with a loud groan.

“Derek told me before you did, Stiles.” Scott informed him, staring at Peter with a blank expression. “I went in the road once to save a frog and he got really mad. So mad that his eyes were yellow. He told me he was a superhero and yeah…”

“What?!” Both Peter and Stiles shout, making Scott cringe from the loud noise.

Peter covers his face with his hands. “And you told Jackson?” he asks, peeking through his fingers; his voice muffled. 

Stiles nods. “Of course I did, swilly! He’s my boyfriend!” he says matter-of-factly.

At that, Peter removes his hands from his face and rests them on his knees. “Boyfriend?” he raises an eyebrow.


End file.
